


I Swear There's More to Me Than This

by darylsnegan



Category: Avengers (Comics), Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Bucky - Freeform, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Development, Clint Barton's Bow & Arrows, Developing Friendships, Domestic Avengers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Marvel - Freeform, Marvel Universe, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Clint Barton, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trust, Trust Issues, Violence, bucky barnes smut, bucky fluff, possible trigger warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-05-16 04:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14804378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darylsnegan/pseuds/darylsnegan
Summary: By now, the Avengers are used to Clint bringing home misfits after most of his missions, but when he brings home Lydia, Bucky is drawn to her in ways he didn't realize were possible. Over the course of time, the group considers her as family, a feeling she's been missing since her capture. But when she feels she's overstayed her welcome, Bucky tries everything in his power to make her stay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> starting a new story is a bit tricky, but I hope its enjoyable to read. feedback would be appreciated. :)

"I'm not going to hurt you." A voice rang through my ears.

The dim bulb that flickered on and off for the past month had finally died out, but now a brighter light was shining in my direction as the steps drew closer. If my body weren't so weak, if I wasn't chained up like a rabid dog left to die, I would've ran. It was all I ever knew how to do.

I had nowhere to go when the man made his way into my line of vision. My body was already backed against the wall, my ankle still shackled to the ground. The rest of my body was too damaged to even put up a decent fight to protect myself.

He was tall, his weight complimenting his stature. The only light shining on him was what reflected off of the wall behind me. It illuminated him just enough that I could see he was older. Mid-forties, maybe. He was dressed in all black and had some kind of weaponry slung over his back. When I squinted hard enough, I could tell that they were archery bows.

The man crouched down next to me, directing the flashlight to the ground so it was no longer blinding me. To my surprise, he didn't inflict pain. Much like he had promised when his voice first echoed the walls.

"Are you hurt?" He asked. His voice was slightly above a mumble as he carefully looked over my fragile body, eyes lingering over the injection bumps that these horrible people had left behind on my once clean skin.

I didn't answer. I didn't know this man, I didn't know who he was working for or what my captors would do to me if I spoke. One thing I did know, though, was that I needed this man to get out alive.

"Sweetie, I need you to let me know. If I pick you up, is it going to hurt you?" He questioned again, eyes pleading.

Another question left unanswered, all I did was look down at the shackle surrounding my ankle.

The man looked to where my gaze fell upon, nodding to himself and then looked back to me as if to let me know he meant no harm. He carefully took my leg in his hand and used one of his bows to maneuver the lock open, releasing my ankle from the metal confinement. Surprising the both of us, I didn't run.

"I'm Clint." His voice remained soft, still I said nothing.

His brows furrowed. I didn't know if he was frustrated or thinking, but when he started signing to me, I went with the latter.

"I'm not deaf." I mumbled, earning a faint smile from the man called Clint.

"You're not mute either. Good to know." The faint smile still lingering as he spoke.

I continued to sit back against the wall, staring at the man in front of me. Beads of sweat were collecting along his kempt sideburns and dirt splayed against his bare skin, but compared to me, the man was clean as a whistle.

"You can't stay here." He spoke again, already aware that I knew this. "So I need you to let me know what hurts so I can avoid further injury."

This treatment was so unlike any I'd experienced in the past ten years that I was taken aback at how gentle this man was being. Finally, I spoke up.

"My, uh.. my left shoulder is dislocated and I think my collarbone is broken," I mumbled.

I had been so used to the pain from my injuries that they no longer ached like they did when I first suffered from them which I knew wasn't a good sign. Still, the man contemplated on how to pick me up to refrain from inflicting anymore unnecessary pain on me which I appreciated.

He lifted me as carefully as he could, wrapping my good shoulder around his neck for support, but it still didn't stop me from sucking in a breath when a bit of the underlying pain surfaced and kicked me while I was down.

"I'm sorry." He pressed his lips together apologetically.

"Why are you here?" I mumbled, squeezing my eyes closed as a migraine crept its way into my list of pain.

"Was on a mission," He spoke as he carefully carried me out through the back entrance, his eyes tracing over the bumps and deep bruises on my dirty skin again, causing him to frown. "We can get you fixed up, don't worry. Nobody is ever beyond repair."

I didn't understand what this man was going on about, but it was clear that he had dealt with this kind of stuff before which both scared and intrigued me. Finally, I managed to respond.

"We?" I groaned as the sunlight hit my skin, hiding my face in the crook of his neck. It had been ages since I'd been outside and it wasn't necessarily helping my migraine any.

"The Avengers." He nodded matter-of-factly.

Before I had a chance to continue the conversation, the warm sun beating down on my skin mixing with the pain of my injuries soon caused my body to go into shock to protect me. That, or the fact that I hadn't slept in what felt like months. Either way, I was out cold before he had gotten me out to the vehicle. For now, I was safe. Something I hadn't been in years, something I never thought I'd be again. I didn't know this man who called himself Clint or the Avengers of which he spoke, but I knew I owed him for getting me out of that place alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy this chapter, wasn’t sure how I felt about it so feedback would be much appreciated :)

When I woke up, everything was a bit blurry. I wasn't sure how long I'd been out or where I ended up in my unconscious state, but as I looked around the room I was in, I was given the silent reassurance that I was safe thanks to the man called Clint.

When I stood from the bed I was laid on, my legs faltered beneath me, causing a frustrated sigh to emit past my lips. My body wasn't used to the freedom of moving about just yet, reminding me that I needed to take it easy and not push myself too hard. 

The next thing I noticed when I looked at myself in the full-length mirror was the sling wrapped around my arm and the back of my neck. Clint must've popped my shoulder back into place and the sling was letting up the stress on my collarbone, something else I needed to thank him for.

Upon further inspection, I could see the damage left behind on my body as clear as day by the people who were experimenting on me for the past couple of years. My skin was sallow, absent of any health or life for that matter. The dark circles under my eyes were so advanced that it looked as if my eyes could cave in at any minute. My hair was still dirty along with the rest of my body, but it didn't stop my eyes from flickering to each and every scar, bruise and fresh wound scattered along my skin. 

Before I had any other chance of self-loathing, I tore my eyes away from the reflection looking back at me and decided to look for Clint to thank him for his generosity and hospitality. However, as my steps drew closer to the living area, I heard mumbled voices which caused me to flinch.

"You can't keep doing this, Clint." A feminine voice spoke up, causing me to peek around the corner to see her auburn hair falling neatly along her shoulders.

"I had to help her, Nat. You didn't see the place." Clint's voice argued. Even from where I stood I could hear the worry in his tone. "She would've died."

He wasn't saying anything I didn't already know myself. A few more weeks or even days in that place and I was done for. 

"You just ... you can't keep bringing home every misfit who needs your help." A frustrated hum followed her words.

Clint looked around the room to the other what I'm assuming was an Avenger. His eyes falling to the ground. 

"You were one of those misfits before, Nat. So was I. So was Wanda."

"Steve?" She looked over at the blonde-haired man who mirrored her stare.

"So was Bucky when I brought him here." The man's voice was solemn as he seemed to remember that day vividly. 

The group of three stayed quiet for a while as if they were all remembering how they got here and how they came to be this sort of faction that learned to act like a family, but also fought like a family. 

"It has to stop somewhere." Nat's voice was slightly above a mumble.

"Since when is doing the right thing for someone who needs our help the wrong decision?" Clint grumbled, the frustration in his voice told me he'd had this argument with her several times before.

"It's not on you to save everyone." Nat spoke, desperately trying to get him to see that. 

"As long as I'm still battling injustice or whatever the hell the Avengers do anymore, it is my job." Clint reminded her, looking back and forth from the two Avengers before I caught his eye. "You're awake." He mumbled, causing the rest of the group to look at me which was a bit unsettling considering that I didn't feel welcome after their private conversation.

The woman called Nat took one look at me and frowned. I wasn't sure if it was because once she took a look at me she understood why Clint did what he did or if it was due to the disapproval she voiced moments ago. When she looked at him with a nod of her head, I knew it was the prior. 

Clint made his way to me and carefully helped me over to a loveseat, sitting by my side moments later. He knew I was skittish and having him next to me gave me a sense of security. This clearly wasn't his first rodeo. 

"That's Steve," Clint gave a nod of his head in the direction of said Steve. "And this is Natasha." He looked up at the auburn haired woman as she was still standing.

Natasha and Steve both gave me a silent nod as if to say hello which were followed by looks of pity, making me feel incredibly small and weak, a feeling I'd come to know all too well over the past couple of years. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable and Clint must've sensed it.

"You probably want to take a shower, huh?" His voice was low in my direction, earning a nod from me. "Come on, I'll show you where it's at and get you some clothes from Wanda's room."

"She can borrow mine." Natasha spoke up. "I'll bring them up in a little while." 

Clint looked over his shoulder at her with a gratuitous nod and then continued down the hall with me to show me where one of the bathrooms were. 

Once he left me by myself, I undressed down to my tattered bra and underwear, an activity that was a bit tricky with only one working arm for the time being, but I managed. Again, I looked at the unrecognizable body staring back at me in the mirror, but a knock from the door kept me from focusing on it for too long this time. I wrapped the towel around my body and cracked the door open.

"Just me." Natasha mumbled, tilting her head.

I contemplated for a moment before opening the door wider for her to enter. I wasn't here to make enemies, I didn't take what she said to Clint to heart, and clearly she was trying to make up for her behavior. I appreciated the effort. 

When she stepped in, she set the clothes down on the countertop and looked over all of my wounds, giving me that same look she gave me earlier in the living area. The look of pity that I dreaded.

"What I said earlier," she began. "I'm sorry. Clint, he's just.. he wants to fix everyone. Wants to fix every broken thing he comes across except for himself and, well, he's family." When I said nothing, she nodded with a faint smile. "I've been where you are. I don't know who hurt you or what you went through, but I've been at rock bottom before. The only bright side of that is there's nowhere else to go but up."

I could tell she meant well by all of this. A faint smile formed on my chapped lips, but still I said nothing.

"The others are out on a mission but they should be back tomorrow. Bucky and Sam if they survived being around each other that long," she giggled to herself. "Wanda, Tony and Bruce. Thor is off somewhere fighting with his brother again, but he should be back soon too."

When I again refrained from responding to her, Natasha probably figured that she should leave me to my shower. She went to leave, but then turned to me once more before leaving the bathroom, a softened expression on her face.

"We're good people, you know. Give us a chance."


	3. Chapter 3

Getting myself out of bed the next morning was a battle that I ended up losing. I was every sense of the word drained, and I couldn't bear the thought of leaving the comfort of the cool satin sheets that I was wrapped up in. However, I knew at some point during the day Clint would come to check up on me, and I was right.

"Knock knock," His voice came from the other side of the door before stepping in. 

I peeked my head out from beneath the fuzzy blankets and gave him a sleepy expression, causing him to give me a crooked smile in return.

"Steve made breakfast. Kind of a tradition we have when a team comes home from a mission. It's domestic and absolutely disgusting, but you're welcome to join us if you're feeling up to it."

I wanted to. I desperately wanted to surround myself with amazing people who had breakfast together and greeted each other when the rest of their friends arrived home safe, but I couldn't pull myself away from this bed. The frustration I felt within myself caused stray tears to trickle down the side of my face, making Clint walk over to sit on the side of my bed. 

"Hey, you're okay." He assured me. "I cry when Steve's the one cooking too." He teased, earning a soft laugh from my lips. "If you want to eat in here, I can bring you food. If you'd rather have water or coffee or tea or -"

"What if they don't like me." I cut him off, my eyes tracing the pattern of the bedsheets.

"Don't be silly." His voice was soft. "These idiots take some time getting used to, and we don't always see eye to eye on every situation, but they're good people. Sure they're a pain in the ass, but you'll learn that soon enough." He teased.

A minute or two passed while I contemplated what I should do, but when I heard several cheery voices roaring from down the hall, I knew I didn't want to miss out on my first impression meeting the rest of the Avengers. 

"Come on." Clint nodded toward the kitchen, offering his hand. 

When we reached the kitchen, the amount of people that were in the house last night had doubled in size. Their loud voices made me feel a bit claustrophobic, but I didn't dare complain about anything when these people were taking me into their home. 

"There she is." Steve smiled.

"Don't worry, I already told her you're a shitty chef." Clint let out a hearty laugh, introducing me to the rest of their group.

"That idiot with the glasses is Tony. RoboCop over there is Bucky — you two have the same injured arm, have fun bonding over it — Bruce is ... naked. Guessing the Hulk wasn't polite enough to pack an extra change of clothes. And the glue holding these poor saps together is Wanda. Recruited her not too long ago." Clint let out a heavy breath after he finished rambling.

"It'll be nice to have another badass girl around." Wanda squeaked with excitement. 

"The female to male ratio in this place keeps fluctuating. We're gonna have to sleep with one eye open soon, they're building an army." Bruce looked between Wanda, Natasha and myself, causing each of us to humor him with a laugh.

When my eyes fell upon Bucky, I noticed he was already staring at me with a perplexed expression on his face. When he didn't look away from me, I felt a bit nervous and focused my attention to the voice that directed itself at me.

"Tony Stark, smartest and most handsome Avenger. Some even say strongest, but," he shrugged, earning a round of 'boo's' from the others as he shook my hand.

"Thor would kick your ass if he heard you say that." Nat laughed. 

As we all sat around the big round table in the dining area, I felt a sense of relief knowing that I was going to get along just fine with these so-called idiots. The food Steve cooked for everyone was the first real meal I'd had in what felt like years and I made sure to savor every bite. 

Again, when my gaze fell upon Bucky, he was already looking at me, but this time he awkwardly looked down at his plate like nothing happened. It was a bit odd, but come to think of it, so were the past 24 hours of my life so I still didn't think much of it. 

Once we were all finished, each of us went off to do our own thing. My own thing just so happened to be locking myself away in my room again, but I don't particularly enjoy technicalities. Besides, I needed to rest and let my body heal.

But when my stomach woke me up during the middle of the night, I was given no choice but to venture my way into the kitchen for food. I settled on an orange that was in an assorted bowl of fruit on the table and sat alone in the dimly lit room. That, however, was short lived. 

"Can I sit here?" A voice I didn't recognize spoke, causing me to flinch slightly. 

When I turned my head, Bucky was standing by the chair next to me. I gave him a nod and he took his seat, reaching for an apple from the basket. We stayed in silence for a few minutes before he looked over at me and spoke once again. 

"I'm sorry about earlier." He mumbled. "I'm not really good at meeting new people."

Something else we had in common.

"You have a name?" He asked but didn't get an answer, nodding to himself with pursed lips.

"I get it. You're scared. I'm sure everyone has told you that they know how you feel or that they've been where you are, but .. they haven't. Not really at least." Bucky picked at the sticker on the apple with his thumb, not bothering to look at me. "Clint told me where he found you. Those people, they're.. I'm really sorry. We keep trying to get rid of those assholes, but they keep slipping through the cracks. They hide in the most unsuspecting places and ruin people's lives. The resilient bastards have been doing it for years."

"Did they.." I nodded toward his bionic arm. 

"Yeah." He grumbled. "I don't know what they'd want with you, no offense, I just -" Bucky's eyes fell along my arm and noticed the same marks Clint had seen when he found me. "You survived." He answered his own question, looking at me with an apologetic expression. 

I nodded. I didn't know what those people wanted with me, but it was apparent that Bucky did. He was right, I did survive. A number of people that were also captured ended up dying or being killed. Not me, though. I was what they had been so desperately looking for. At least that’s what I gathered from their murmured Russian dialogue. 

“What’s your name?” He asked again, this time the tone in his voice shifted. Almost as if he were stricken with guilt. 

"зимний солдат." I mumbled. 

"No.” He refused, his eyes pleading for me to remember. 

I was scared. Terrified, really. If I revealed my identity that I vaguely even remembered myself, I was offering up a target to be pinned to my back and this could happen to me all over again. But when I looked over into Bucky’s eyes, I didn’t see anything to be afraid of. He was damaged too, better than I was, granted, but he was on my side. All of the Avengers seemed to be. 

I let out a shaky breath and looked down at the counter, my voice barely above a whisper. 

“Lydia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> зимний солдат is winter soldier in Russian.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia battles a conflict within herself

The next day consisted of Clint's endless attempts of apologizing and trying to earn my trust back after speaking with Bucky about where he found me before I even knew myself. It was bad enough not knowing why I was chosen by whatever HYDRA is, but being the last person to find out about it was an indescribable empty feeling I couldn't quite wrap my head around. Sure, I hadn't known Clint for very long, but he was the one person I trusted in this tower before everyone else and the feeling of betrayal that presented itself to me was disappointing to say the least.

"Please open the door." Clint sighed, his head leaning against the metal barrier causing it to press into the frame.

This was going on his fifth attempt of getting me to talk to him and it wasn't even noon yet. Mixed emotions flooded my body as I contemplated my next move. On one hand, Clint was only looking out for me and possibly trying to get as much information as he could before dropping all of this news on me. On the other hand, he told Bucky and god knows who else before me, leaving me feeling unimportant and detached from everything.

I decided against letting Clint in, turning my body away from the door so I no longer had to see the shadow of his feet. My eyes closed and a deep sigh was released from my body. Deep down I knew I was blowing this out of proportion, but being a victim of a terrorist group for the past two years gave me the right to be slightly upset. 

I watched the clock tick for the next two hours and to my surprise, nobody bothered me within that time. I had fallen asleep while watching the big hand try to catch up to the little hand one more time, but my sleep was interrupted just shy of one hour later when a knock came from the other side of the door.

"Go away, Clint." I sighed, stuffing my face into an extra pillow.

"It's Bucky." He called out, causing me to peek my eyes out from the pillow to the door.

Contemplating on whether I should let him in, I eventually caved.

"Come in." I mumbled, watching the knob of the door turn and push open. 

"Bruce made bacon sandwiches." He gave me a half grin as he offered the plate of food to me, stepping cautiously into my room. 

"Thanks." I sheepishly smiled, nodding my head to the side of my bed for him to sit if he wanted. 

Bucky's weight pressed down into the side of my mattress, his gaze falling into his lap and then to me. I could tell he was nervous or at least hesitant to carry out a conversation.

"Clint sent you, right?" The aggravation in my voice not hidden.

"He wanted to make sure you were eating." He answered flatly.

I said nothing, instead I took a couple of bites of the sandwich and kept my gaze on the man in front of me. I'd be lying if I said my stubbornness didn't work up my appetite. Bucky looked like he was holding back, seeming conflicted once again.

"You think I'm being too hard on him." I muttered.

"I think you're looking for any reason to leave." He retorted, causing me to look down sadly. "When I got out.. I was holed up in some run down apartment complex. I didn't have someone like Clint to look after me or help me make sense of all of this. I had to figure out everything alone. I woke up alone, I scrounged for food alone, I learned who I was alone. So he told me where he found you, big deal. That guy is one of the most selfless guys I know. He's a good person, Lydia. We all are. You just —"

"I just have to give you a chance." My soft voice cut him off, earning a nod from him. 

"Don't shut us out before we've even had the chance to be let in." He frowned, and with that, Bucky was on his feet and making his way out the door.

Once again, I was left alone, but this time, I was burdened with Bucky's speech and I knew deep down that he was right. I was looking for any reason to leave because all I ever knew was running. I didn't want anyone to feel like they were forced to look after me or care about me and I was pushing this group of people away before they even had a chance to know me. 

Instead of feeling sorry for myself any longer, I brought my empty plate to the kitchen and offered a smile to every Avenger I passed on my way there. When I ran into Bucky in the hallway, he nodded his head toward the garage where Clint was without even knowing what I was going to ask. I gave him a grateful nod and continued to where he directed me. 

When I stepped through the door to the garage, Clint was hunched over the open hood of a car trying to fix it. Beads of sweat collected along the nape of his neck as well as his forehead, causing him to wipe his face with a rag. I somewhat approached the car and cleared my throat which caught his attention. He looked over and when he saw it was me, an uneasy expression plastered his face as if he didn't want to say or do anything to scare me away so he let me come to him which I eventually did. 

I wasn't the best when it came to feelings and emotions, and I didn't have the greatest track record of faithful companions, but that didn't mean that I had to shut someone out just because I wasn't completely understanding of their actions. 

“You need to tighten that before you reconnect.” I mumbled, nodding my head toward the tool he was using.

Clint offered me the torque wrench and stepped out of my way, but still hovered over my shoulder to watch me work my magic. Within a minute or so, I was finished and he was closing the hood. We each leaned back against the hood staring straight ahead. A comfortable silence filtered the air, but eventually Clint spoke up.

“Y’know, FRIDAY helps us out with so much stuff that we forget to humble ourselves every once in a while.” Clint chuckled, looking over to me.

When I didn’t return the glance or even smile, Clint sighed, hanging his head.

“I’m sorry.” I sighed, finally looking over at him. “It’s been so long since I’ve been around good people... I just.. why didn’t you tell me first?” 

“Kiddo, you needed rest. You’re still healing and we’re trying to get you healthy. You didn’t need to worry about the technicalities.” He frowned. “I talked to Bucky because I knew he would be able to tell me what we were up against, what you’d have to endure physically and mentally. It wasn’t because I don’t see you as deserving. I need you to know that, okay?” 

“Okay.” I nodded. 

My head leaned against Clint’s shoulder, the most affection I’d given a human being in years. I was slowly learning to trust these people, and maybe I needed to give them a chance after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about this chapter. Feedback is appreciated x   
> (Sorry for the chapter repost)


	5. Chapter 5

The days following the discussion Clint and I had were better than I could've expected. It opened my eyes to the fact that even when you think you're broken, other people can still find the value in you. Not to mention that it also starts to make you see the value in yourself which was most likely why I was feeling better all around. I started bonding with the Avengers more each day, and slowly but surely, I was making progress with letting them into my life.

Tony had FRIDAY keeping track of the progress my wounds and broken bones were making more so than necessary, but I appreciated the concern that was still foreign to me. Meanwhile, Wanda and Natasha showed me their hidden snack cupboard that they delved into whenever they didn't want to eat Steve's cooking. 

Thor was still away, but Bruce showed me the nooks and crannies of the interesting places in the tower all while going on and on about his seven PhD's and asking if I could put in a good word about him to Nat. Steve talked to me about the history of SHIELD and HYDRA to give me a better understanding of who the good guys, the bad guys, and the traitors were. He also showed me how to make an omelet which I used to my advantage when I couldn't sleep. 

Clint showed me the art of archery and wouldn't stop bragging about how I know my way around a car, but I wasn't going to dismiss the praises, and Sam talked me down on the days when my PTSD got the best of me. He'd lost his best friend in combat, I'd come to find out, so he knew what I was going through when I would suddenly wake up during a nap screaming or retreat into myself when things got to be too much.  

Bucky on the other hand was a mystery. When neither of us could sleep, we'd meet up in the kitchen at night and talk for a while, but when morning hit, our paths would only cross if I was lucky. He'd give me a sheepish smile here and there, but he usually didn't surface much when everyone was out and about. I knew he was an introvert, but I began to think that having me around was a burden or that he didn't want to be seen with me. Either way, it took a jab at my feelings.

That night, like many of the nights I’d been here, I failed to let my mind and body shut down and just rest for a measly eight hours. Even though I wasn’t starving, I knew I wasn’t going to make any progress dozing off when my stomach was rumbling and telling me to make an omelette; something I couldn’t get enough of once Steve taught me how to make it. 

So that’s what I did. I preheated the stove, dragged out a skillet, collected the sacred ingredients and got to it, and just like clockwork, Bucky was joining me at the table to snatch a few berries off my plate. This time, however, I was less than enthused. 

“What’s wrong?” He mumbled, nudging my leg with his foot while I stared at the plate.

I couldn’t help but take his lack of appearance during the day personally, but I didn’t want to overreact about something again.

“Lydia.” He frowned, throwing a blueberry at me which caused me to shoot him a glare.

“Where are you during the day?” I grumbled, earning a confused expression from him. “During the day I’m happy, I’m building friendships, I’m learning things and... you miss all of that.” I frowned. “At night, it’s just us. I like our weird misery loves company bonding and all, Buck, but.. you miss out on the moments of the world giving me a second chance. I know you don’t believe in them, but I do.” 

I studied his face like my life depended on it. His lips parted, then pressing together as he carefully took in everything I had thrown at him, the plates in his arm audibly shifting. 

“I’m happy you’re fitting in here.” He answered simply. “It’s just a little difficult for me to watch you do everyday things that you get so excited about because if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t be so excited about something as simple as making an omelette at four in the morning.” He scoffed.

I didn’t quite grasp what he was getting at, but I also didn’t want to ask. Instead I looked at him to continue, but only if he wanted. He swallowed down the lump building in his throat and continued soon after.

“Two years ago I bailed on HYDRA. For the longest time they had me as their star Winter Soldier. I behaved perfectly, did as they ordered, never questioned anything. But it was only when Steve called me Bucky on that bridge did I begin remembering my life before all of this,” He nodded toward his bionic appendage. “They got scared, tried covering up my memories they so desperately attempted to erase for years, but this time it was different. I finally got out. Never went back. Went to the Smithsonian where Steve’s Captain America exhibit was and found the answers of who I was. They needed a new Winter Soldier, Lydia. Someone to fill my shoes. They took you because they didn’t have me anymore. Don’t you get it? Everything they did to you was my fault. That’s why I can’t...” Bucky cleared his throat, eyes flickering up to meet mine. “That’s why I can’t watch you do thinks as simple as reading a book for the first time or girl bonding with Wanda and Nat. You should’ve been able to do this for your entire life without a care in the world, but instead you got the short end of the stick because I decided I deserved my life back.”

“Stop.” My lip trembled. “Stop acting like you’re the monster they made you out to be. You’re just as much a victim in this as I am, Bucky. Don’t forget that. And don’t think for a second that I blame you for what someone else did to me.” My tone was stern as I stood from the table to take my plate to the sink. 

When I turned the faucet on, the loud shattering of glass filled my ears and Bucky tackled me onto the ground, most likely a protective instinct erupting from him. When we saw a blonde-headed man wielding a giant hammer, we stood, but Bucky remained in front of me.

“Avengers! I’ve returned!” The man shouted in a beautiful accent. 

When he caught a glance of us, the man looked perplexed.

“Am I... in the right tower?” He looked around. “I don’t recognize either of you.” 

“Who the hell are you?” Bucky grumbled.

“I am Thor. King of Asgard, son of Odin. Strongest Avenger.” He offered a breathtaking smile. 

“Bucky.” He nodded his head, but Thor was already on his way over to the both of us with arms wide open. 

“Fellow Avengers in training!” He bellowed, embracing the both of us in a constricting hug. 

“And who are you, darling?” He asked in that charming voice. 

“Lydia Wilson.” I sheepishly responded. 

“Nice to meet you, Son of Will. Or... daughter.” He chuckled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m absolutely knackered from my journey here. I reckon I’ll see the two of you in the morning though, yeah?” He asked, already making his way to the staircase and ascending up the steps before either of us had responded.

When I looked over at Bucky with the most puzzled expression on my face, he gave me a faint smirk. 

“Still don’t wanna blame me?” He chuckled. 

I rolled my eyes and shoved at his chest lightheartedly, giving him a soft smile.

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m feeling a lot better about this chapter. Thoughts?


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm just saying it's a bit weird to me." Thor whispered to Steve. 

"What are you talking about?" Bruce interrupted.

"Lydia. You said this girl went missing over two years ago, but there's been no missing persons, no sign of anyone looking for her. Nothing." Thor's eyes squinted. 

"Maybe she doesn't have family." Bucky shrugged.

"All I'm saying is that when Jane's science partner went missing, there was news about it after a day. Lydia has been gone for nearly three years."

"Maybe that's why they picked her." Steve spoke up. "HYDRA didn't want anyone knowing about what they were doing so why would they take people with families who would go looking for them? Bucky's right. Maybe she didn't have anyone."

"Still.. it's weird." Thor frowned.

"Coming from the guy who jumped through our window at four in the morning." Bucky rolled his eyes, walking over to Clint and myself as we fixed the window. 

It meant a lot to me that Bucky was making an effort of being around everyone during the day. He was even helping Steve, Bruce and Thor prepare for the traditional welcome back dinner for Thor tonight. 

"Dinners almost ready." Bucky mumbled to the two of us.

We each looked at each other and then over to Wanda and Natasha setting things out on the table while the others finished with the food and decided that it wouldn't hurt if we got cleaned up before we ate. 

As we all rounded the table, Bucky sat on my right, Clint on my left. Bruce timidly sat next to Nat as did Steve, Wanda situated herself in between Sam and Thor and Tony managed to squeeze himself around the table as well. We all realized at that moment that we were going to need a bigger table if Avengers kept popping up right and left, but nobody complained about the closeness.

During our meal, Bucky's leg would accidentally brush against mine and our elbows would bump from time to time, earning a soft laugh from each of us every time it happened. Nobody seemed to take notice except for Clint who seemed less than thrilled but never said anything regarding it, and Tony who didn't care enough about anyone else's personal business to bring it up. 

"You've gotten better at cooking." Thor pointed out.

"Two years gives a guy a lot of time to redeem himself." Steve shrugged.

"A lot of food burned in the process," Tony snickered. 

"Sorry, what was that, _strongest_ Avenger?" Nat quirked her brow at Tony, earning a laugh from everyone else.

"So Thor, you brought alcohol." Tony quickly changed the subject.

"Ah," Thor confirmed. "It's aged for a thousand years in the barrels built from the wreck of Brunhilde's fleet." He explained. "It's not meant for mortal men."

We all looked around the table, taking note very quickly that Tony, Sam and Clint were really the only _mortal_ ones out of all of us. Steve was obviously a super soldier as was Bucky, and I suppose that would make Nat and I classified as low grade super soldiers as well. Bruce could Hulk out on command, Wanda had crazy strong powers, but we weren't sure if that would classify them as not being able to get drunk. 

"Game night?" I sheepishly suggested.

Everyone agreed to the idea and we eventually moved the crowded party into the living room, Bucky and myself sitting on one of the loveseats, Bruce and Steve both clinging to Natasha's side yet again, Sam and Clint sat on the floor in front of Tony and Thor who claimed the last two-person couch and game night was in full effect accompanied by Thor's Asgardian refreshments.

The liquor was strong, and it definitely did the trick of knocking us on our asses. Everyone except for Steve that is, but even then it still seemed to work just a smidge. 

We played a round of go fish, Jenga, a couple different drinking games, never have I ever, and then each of us tried picking up Thor's hammer to no avail. Even in our courageous drunken state, we were humbled by the fact that none of us were worthy to hold the Asgardian throne.

During the intermission between games, one or two Avengers would head up to bed until it was just down to Bucky, myself, Bruce and Tony which was short lived. Bruce ended up sulking up the stairs when Nat left the same time as Steve, and Tony didn’t feel like being the ‘third wheel’ as he would call it; leaving Bucky and myself alone which wasn’t any different from any other late night. Except this time I was a drunk, giggly mess and Bucky was a little off his rocker as well. 

We basked in each other’s company for what seemed like hours, taking sips of our drinks every so often to keep the buzzing feeling alive. Our slurred speech made everything more enjoyable than it probably was, but we managed to talk endlessly despite our inebriated state.

“What was your favorite thing about the forties?” I asked, laying my head on Bucky’s shoulder.

He leaned his head against mine and laid his hand on top of my thigh as he thought over my question very carefully.

“Postcards.” He chuckled.

“Postcards?” I turned my head to look up at him, giggling as well.

“Yeah, you know. The ‘wish you were here’ or ‘greetings from’ whatever place you were visiting at the time.” The corners of his mouth turned upward. “I always thought those were neat. I sent them to my mom a lot after I left Brooklyn for the war. She loved those things. Probably where I got it from.” 

I didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or my inner feelings showing themselves for the first time, but in that moment, I thought Bucky looked so handsome as he talked about the simpler times and the things that he loved. I knew he never talked about this with anyone else out of the fear of looking weak, but I appreciated the wall he was tearing down for me.

“What about you?” His voice broke my concentration. “What was your favorite thing before all this?” 

His eyes glistened in the low light, catching me off guard for a moment until I looked away and thought about his question which didn’t take too long.

“Christmas morning with my family.” I smiled, his eyes never leaving my face as I talked. “Me and my little brother would race down the stairs like a couple of wild animals and my parents would catch it on video every time.” I laughed as I thought about the simpler times. “My family would always go out and get the biggest tree we could fit in our living room and we’d spend the whole night decorating it with ornaments and tinsel. Sometimes my mom would even let us string popcorn while she made eggnog.” My smile faltered and Bucky noticed immediately, lacing his fingers with mine to give me strength to continue.

“My mom died when I was thirteen. She got sick one day and then it seemed like the next day she was gone. She didn’t suffer. Not as much as we did without her at least.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and gently squeezed Bucky’s hand for the support I desperately needed. “I always hated eggnog but I drank it because the taste reminded me of her ruby red lipstick she wore when she made it. We tried to keep the Christmas tradition alive, but.. three years ago my dad and brother got hit by a drunk driver. I haven’t celebrated Christmas since then.”

Bucky was quiet, adding up the timeline in his head apparently because once he heard everything I said, he seemed to make sense of the tragedy. 

“That’s why there was no missing persons report when you got taken by HYDRA.” He spoke up. “Thor thought it was strange that nobody was looking for you, but.. it makes sense now. They took you because they saw the obituaries that showed they were only survived by you.” His brow furrowed. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Lydia.”

I didn’t say anything else. I only laid my head down on Bucky’s lap and I let the sleepy feeling wash over me as the sun peeked it’s way up from the horizon. The last thing I remembered was feeling Bucky run his fingers through my hair to ease me to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

I was jolted out of sleep the next morning when I heard yelling a few doors down the hall from the living area. I instinctively clutched onto Bucky's leg that I'd been using as a pillow all night when the sudden claustrophobic sound of muffled raised voiced pierced through me. Bucky was painfully aware that I didn't take well to unexpected noises and he tried his best to comfort me by placing a protective arm on my back while the argument unfolded. 

"Absolutely not!" Clint's voice boomed from down the hall, the others in the room shushing him.

"Barton, that's enough." Tony warned.

"I brought her here so we could fix her." He spoke through gritted teeth. "She needs to heal."

"She doesn't need to be fixed." Natasha hissed.

"And she doesn't need a love interest either!" Clint seemed to only get angrier as the conversation continued. 

"She's not your daughter, Barton." Tony sternly reminded him. "Stand down." 

Not much was said after that, at least from what Bucky and myself could hear through closed doors. I didn't know what had gotten into Clint, but it was apparent to everyone now that Bucky and I were a lot closer than he was comfortable with. I wasn't sure if he didn't trust Bucky or whether he was jealous of the time we were spending together or if it had anything to do with both of us bonding over being captured by HYDRA, but whatever the reason, it made me feel horrible that the man who saved my life was hurting because of me. 

—

"Are you okay?" Tony asked, walking over to sit down beside me as I scrolled through an article on the computer. 

I was too saddened to be phased by the abrupt sound of his voice which answered his question. He looked over at the screen and frowned once he saw that it was the news article of my father and brother's fatal crash. 

"I know how hard it is, kid." His apologetic tone caused me to glance over at him. "My parents died the same way. It's been years, but the wound is just as fresh as if it happened an hour ago." I could only nod at his attempt of comforting me. "My father burdened me with all this knowledge and power. It's made me successful, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I can see the man I hated inside of him mirroring in myself."

Tony opening up about his feelings and his past was unexpected, but hearing him ramble on was putting me at ease in a sense that I wasn't alone with mourning. 

"Everyone here has lost someone. Whether it's their parents, a loved one, or even themselves." Tony pressed his lips into a thin line. "I know you heard Clint earlier. I'm sorry it brought up memories. He was completely out of line." 

"He saved me." I mumbled.

"He did." Tony nodded. "But if you like Barnes — and I know you do because you goons were bumping elbows and giggling like awkward teenagers at dinner last night — then pardon my French but fuck what Clint thinks or says about it. You went through hell and then you went through HYDRA. You're allowed to find someone who sees the human in you, not just the flaws or the weakness. I'm grateful everyday that Pepper sees the humanity in me. She knows I'm broken but instead of pointing it out or trying to _fix_ me, she takes the good days with the bad and she's patient. I'll deny it if you ever tell anyone I said this, but falling in love almost makes the suffering bearable. You find your person and the world makes sense."

Talking to Tony reminded me of the conversations I used to have with my dad once my mom died. He was the person I went to when I got my heart broken or needed advice about life or school or needed something from the top shelf. 

Losing my family was a tragedy I didn't go into depth about with anyone except for Bucky, but he never hesitated. He didn't run, he didn't judge me. He took my good days with my bad days and he understood the trauma I went through just as I did for him. He was my person just like Tony said. 

"Thank you." I offered Tony a soft smile and he returned the gesture with a nod. 

"Don't mention it, kid. It's in my job title. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, love expert." He smirked, causing me to shove his arm.

It lifted a weight off my shoulders knowing that even if I didn't have Clint on my side to understand things all the time, I always had someone else in my corner. This tower was full of caring individuals the world never gave a chance to. It was full of opportunity and experiences and stories I hadn't yet heard, but was willing to listen to. This tower was full of dysfunctional super soldiers, assassins, spies, a god, a former Airman, and a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, love expert who all somehow put aside their differences and learned to live amongst each other. This tower was full of family and I was starting to feel a sense of belonging I'd been missing for years. 

—

"Can we talk?" Bucky's voice chimed from the doorway of my bedroom.

I stared up at him, my legs dangling off the bed as I sat on the edge waiting for him to join me. Once I nodded to the vacant spot next to me, he entered the room and sat down.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his hair falling in his face as his head tilted to get a glimpse of me. 

When I didn't give any indication of acknowledging his question, Bucky let out a faint sigh. 

"Come on, Lydia. It’s me. You don’t have to put on this mask.” He pleaded, swallowing the aggravation rising in his throat.

“I don’t know, Buck.” I hung my head, staring into my lap. “Last night everything was fine. I finally felt like I was in a good spot, you know? Nothing to worry about, everyone on my side for once.... then this morning everything flipped. I know I shouldn’t care so much about what Clint thinks -”

“Then don’t.” Bucky interjected. “Lydia, Clint saved you, but he didn’t make you who you are. You lived an entire life without him. You were your own person before he told you who to be or how to act. Sure he saved you, but you need to live your life the best way for you. Not anyone else. You will always be disappointed if you do that.”

“I don’t know how.” I whispered, the honesty burning my throat. 

Bucky carefully wrapped his arm around my shoulder, silently telling me to lay my head against him while my emotions threatened to surface. He knew what I needed and he knew how to comfort me in ways I didn’t feel trapped or suffocated. He was giving me the care that he wished he received after being found. He was the only one who truly knew me under the mask I hid behind.

“You will.”


End file.
